


Deterministic Chaos

by finem



Series: Chaos Theory [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt Peter Parker, I Don't Even Know, Maybe I'm the Creep, Norman Osborn Is A Creep, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Young Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finem/pseuds/finem
Summary: “Please,” Peter was practically choking on the word. “My uncle…” It’s all he managed before his body finally ceased functioning. He didn’t remember hitting the floor. Couldn’t hear the panicked voices surrounding him, barely registered the panicked face of Tony Stark as it hovered above him. Could only manage one final warning before the darkness took him.“Osborn...”-or-What if the spider bite were less of an accident?





	Deterministic Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I'm supposed to be working on something else right now, but this story will not leave me alone! Especially in light of all the Marvel goodness out there right now. 
> 
> This story started a while ago actually and was originally set in something that looked like the Amazing Spiderman movie-verse. But now it's all messed up. Imagine whichever Peter feels right to you, though I more than likely have a young Tom Holland in my brain as I'm writing just because of the timing. 
> 
> I've been casually looking into the Ultimate universe a bit and kind of love the creepy obsessive psycho Norman Osborn is in that universe. Of course, because something is wrong with me, I decided to try my hand at an alternate origin story that involves Norman being a creepy creeper and poor lovely Peter being his undeserving target. I'm not even sure how far this will end up going but I'm sure it'll be an interesting ride.

 

 

> _A system is chaotic if its trajectory through state space is sensitively dependent on the initial conditions, that is, if unobservably small causes can produce large effects._

 

Peter woke shivering. He couldn’t figure out why. Part of him wondered if he’d fallen asleep with the AC on high again, but another registered that he was laying prone on a surface that was far too firm and unforgiving to be his bed. And that he definitely wasn’t wearing his standard boxer plus t-shirt bedtime combo. When he thought about it, he couldn’t even remember going to bed. He was having a hard time thinking at all.

He tried to open his eyes to hopefully get some answers to the steady mountain of questions that were gathering in the very back of his very sluggish mind. His eyes weren’t cooperating. He tried to lift a hand to swipe at his eyes in case they had become glued shut by sleep gunk, but his arms weren’t cooperating either. Something was very wrong here. 

A feeling like panic was trying to take form deep in his gut, but even this was slow to form. His body was not responding in any way that it was supposed to and the part of Peter’s brain that was finally coming fully awake understood that the only explanation for this was that he’d been dosed with a strong sedative of some kind.

This realization sparked a memory. Dinner with Harry Osborn. His new friend face-planting into his plate of pasta just before a wave of dizziness dragged Peter into an abyss of darkness. And before that, the accident, the hospital. Aunt May! Uncle Ben! They’d been hurt. Stable but unconscious. Norman Osborn had taken him home. He’d been so glad to see the man because he had no other adults he was willing to turn to, but what had happened after? Mr. Osborn was a very powerful man. Uncle Ben had warned him that a man like that would have equally powerful enemies. What if someone had attacked Mr. Osborn and Harry? Had Peter just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, held as collateral over a man he was in no way actually related to? If that were the case, Peter couldn’t imagine that his value would be very high compared to Mr. Osborn’s own son. But at least he hadn’t seen anything. On TV, it was only bad if you were allowed to see something incriminating. As long as he didn’t see anything important, maybe he’d be released, no harm no foul. Or maybe he’d be disposed of when he proved useless as a hostage… 

It was with this cheerful thought that his eyes finally decided to cooperate. Or at least his lids did. His eyes themselves refused to focus, giving him only vague impression of a room with a strange blue glow. There were sounds around him as well; beeps and hisses that reminded him of a hospital room. That was frightening enough, but it was the smell of the place that set off even more alarm bells in his mind. He was all too familiar with the scents common to a biology lab.

His hand twitched then, finally responding to his brain’s command. The motion was halted quickly accompanied by the sound of metal against metal. Restraints. This just kept getting better. The beeping near his head was steadily increasing now as the sedative wore off and his body began responding to the fear rising in him. He tried his hands again and had the same results. His legs were likewise restrained.

His vision was slowly beginning to clear as figures began moving towards him, glowing blue in the UV light. He tried to speak, but his tongue and throat were try and useless in his mouth. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

“I see you’re finally awake Mr. Parker,” an all too familiar voice spoke from somewhere beyond Peter’s range of vision. He attempted to turn his head to look, trying to convince himself that his ears were wrong, that it wasn’t the voice of Norman Osborn speaking to him sounding entirely to relaxed and pleased for the hostage situation Peter had been imagining. To his great frustration, Peter’s neck muscles were much like the rest of him; still waking and not quite fully under his control.

He needn’t have bothered. Mr. Osborn was by his side a moment later stroking a fatherly hand through Peter’s hair. Supporting his head and guiding a straw to his lips. Peter was so grateful for something to ease his dry mouth he didn’t hesitate to close his lips around the straw and draw the soothing liquid in. He was allowed to drink his fill and the water alone was enough to help clear his head a bit.

When the cup was empty, Osborn eased his head back down onto the pillow it had been resting on and set the cup aside. 

“Is that better?” he asked, standing again over Peter. The man was still a bit fuzzy around the edges, but Peter realized that there was a more obvious reason for this.

“Where are my glasses” popped out of his mouth before he consciously thought to ask. Osborn smiled indulgently at him and rested a hand against his head again before speaking.

“We’re on the verge of something huge here, son,” Osborn told him. “If our studies are correct, after tonight, you’ll never need glasses again. You’ll be faster, stronger, less susceptible to illness or disease. You’ll be the culmination of my life’s work.” His eyes were glowing fatherly pride that set Peter’s insides sinking as horrible understanding began to bloom in his mind. “My perfect boy.”

Peter shook his head in both denial and an attempt to dislodge Osborn’s hand from his head.

“What are you talking about? Mr. Osborn, where’s Harry? Why did you bring me here? Let me go!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Peter,” Osborn said, stepping back and gesturing to one of the lab technicians that had been buzzing around the background. “Your father thought that he could hide this from me. He and I worked for years on this formula, but just as we were on the brink of discovery, he ran, taking his part of the research with him. I’ve been trying for the past decade to get back what he stole from me.”

It was at this point that a technician stepped forward drawing a blood sample from a needle that had already been seated into a vein. Peter hadn’t even noticed it. The tech stepped away and Norman continued. 

“He thought that he was being clever, coding the formula to a specific sequence of DNA, but you, young Peter, have brought me everything that I needed and more. When I first saw you at the Expo and realizd who you were, I thought a friendship between you and Harry would be a convenient means to an end. I never expected you to be so…extraordinary. Peter, you’re brilliant, driven, everything that Harry is not. Your potential is endless.”

“Sir,” the tech was back, “the sample tested clear. No significant risk of interaction.” 

‘Excellent. We’re ready to proceed.” The tech stepped away and returned a moment later with gloves and a small clear box, something alive moving inside of it. 

“Is the other subject prepared?” Osborn asked someone elsewhere in the room. The space seemed huge but from his vantage point, Peter really couldn’t tell. He could, however, turn his head enough to see that there was another exam table with another prone figure stretched upon it, though he couldn’t tell who. It didn’t take his brain long to come to the only logical conclusion. If the formula was coded to a specific DNA sequence, and Peter was singled out as the key to unlocking the formula’s secrets, it would stand to reason that it was coded to Parker DNA. If that were the case then…

“Uncle Ben!” 

Osborn looked down at him with a smile. “That’s my boy. Even now, mind addled and barely awake, you’re gathering information and drawing conclusions. You truly will be my crowning achievement.” 

“I’m not your boy!” Peter said as forcefully as he could, attempting again to fight his restraints. “You’re nuts! You can’t just kidnap people from their lives and experiment on them! My uncle is hurt! You can’t…” 

Something horrible occurred to Peter then. Osborn’s sudden appearance at the hospital became far more suspicious under the light of these new circumstances. He took Peter home like it was his right to do so, and Peter had been so shocked by the news of his aunt and uncle he hadn’t even thought to question it, but now… He shook his head at the truth of the situation settled on him like lead weights. 

“You caused the accident,” he said, horror turning his blood to ice. “You staged it all to get your hands on me and my uncle.” 

“Now Peter,” Osborn said as he pulled the gloves over his hands. “That would be rather extreme measures, now wouldn’t it? Besides, no one would ever be able to prove such a thing. Give me the specimen.” He requested, holding out a hand to one of the technicians. The small container was handed to Osborn and Peter saw the skittering of long thin legs. A spider. He knew that his father’s work involved manipulating the genes of spiders to produce something instead of venom, but he had no idea what that something was supposed to be or what it was supposed to do. He wasn’t particularly excited to find out first hand either. 

He continued to struggle as best he could even knowing that it was useless. Deceptively gentle hands grabbed his head and secured it down with a strap forcing him to look towards Osborn where he loomed over Peter, specimen jar in hand. Peter felt tears sting his eyes, his breaths coming in terrified gasps. There was still just enough of the sedative in his system to have him feel detached. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Please,” he gasped. “Don’t.” 

That fatherly hand returned, smoothing his hair in a would-be soothing touch. “This is the beginning of a new world for you, son.” Osborn told him, the calm assurance killing all hope in Peter’s heart. “Together, you and I will show everyone just how powerful we all could be.” 

With that, he nodded to one of the techs and a cool, sweet-smelling substance was rubbed against his neck. 

“Begin recording.” Osborn began speaking Lab notes as if Peter weren’t even there. “Serum number 016100Z code name: Oz. Trial number 287, subject SP00 age: 15, height: 5ft. 4in. Weight, 132 lbs. Arachnophilisome has been applied to subject to encourage arachnidism from specimen.” 

Osborn removed the lid from the specimen jar and flipped it, pressing the open mouth against Peter’s neck where the substance had been rubbed. Hands held down Peter’s shoulders preventing any further struggling. The whole time, Peter continued pleading with anyone who would listen, knowing that his pleas fell on deaf ears. Even knowing this, he couldn’t stop his mouth from begging any more than he could stop his body from reacting.

Tiny feet prickled against his skin causing him to release a low moan of horror. Sweat was prickling every inch of skin, tiny tremors wracking his frame. His heart gave several slow almost painful throbs as it fought to speed up against the lingering influence of the sedative.

There came a tiny sting, and Peter knew it was done. 

“Serum has successfully been administered to subject SP00. Observation of SP00 has begun. Continuing now to administer to subject SP01.” 

Peter could do nothing but lay and watch, feeling pathetic as the same thing that had happened to him was done to his unmoving uncle. He couldn’t stop the small keens of distress that escaped his throat, body tense and shaking, waiting for what would come next.

He never should have gotten involved with the Osborns; never should have accepted Harry’s offers to hang out at his place. Uncle Ben had tried to warn him; said that Norman Osborn was not to be trusted, but Peter wouldn’t listen. He’d been so dazzled by all the cool things Mr. Osborn could show him and flattered by the man’s attention that he didn’t want to believe anything negative about him. This was the consequence of his blindness. 

The spot on his neck was tingling. Was it getting hot as well? He wanted to touch it. Feel with his hands to be sure. Not that it would help. Not that it would stop the serum from doing what it was going to do. What _was_ it going to do to him? How did Osborn know it would even work? How did he know it wouldn’t just turn Peter into some mutant freak? Or just kill him outright? 

Something was definitely happening now. He was sweating way more than his nerves or the cold room warranted. He was ready to call out for help when his neck muscles began spasming, the heat spiking as it seemed to sear into his head. He felt himself choking, his entire body beginning to seize. A flash of white behind his eyes stole his consciousness and the last thought he had as he fell away was that he’d be missing his meeting with Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner.

 

* * *

_-2 Weeks Prior-_

 

“Peter! Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” 

Peter was scrambling to finish grabbing everything he would need for his presentation at the Science Fair. He’d stayed up way too late putting finishing touches on his project and as a result had slept in past his alarm.

“Way to go Parker,” he muttered under his breath collecting his equipment and making his way out of his room. “Showing up late is a sure-fire way to impress Mr. Stark.” Considering the man’s playboy reputation and tendency to not show up to his own events, that statement might be truer that Peter had meant it to be. 

“Sorry, Aunt May,” Peter said, placing his project on the kitchen table and moving to give his aunt a kiss on the cheek. Is it too late to eat?”

“I packed you something for the road. Now go load up the car.” She handed him the keys and redirected him right back out of the kitchen where he promptly almost collided with his uncle who was heading up from the basement.

“Whoa!” he cried, struggling to keep from dropping the box that contained his project. He’d never have time to cook up a new batch if this one got botched! 

“Easy there, Pete,” his uncle said with a small chuckle, helping him steady the box. “Wouldn’t want to drop that.” 

Peter rolled his eyes at the older man’s statement of the obvious but returned the smile. “I’m late enough as is. Thanks, Uncle Ben!” With that he made his way out the door and down the stairs of their modest home, pressing the button on the car keys to unlock the doors. 

He and his project were settled in the back seat when his aunt and uncle made their way out into the spring morning. They made an attractive couple, both dark-haired and youthful despite the fact that they were both older than Peter’s parents had been. May and Ben hadn’t ever planned to have kids of their own, so there were times when Peter couldn’t help but feel guilty that his parents had dumped him on them. Though they never complained and showed Peter nothing but love and support, there was always a small part of Peter that was very aware that he’d never been part of their life plan. 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be calling a plumber?” May was saying as she settled in the passenger seat and handed a Tupperware container back to Peter.  

“Nothing to worry about,” Ben said accepting the keys from Peter. “I patched the leak for now, I’ll take a better look at it when we get home.” 

“If you say so.” Based on past experience, his aunt’s lack of faith in her husband’s judgment in this area was definitely understandable. “You ready, Pete?” she asked turning back to look at him, beaming at him bright as the sun. 

Peter, of course, had a mouth full of peanut-butter and jelly and wasn’t quite in the best position to answer. He did smile and nod as best he could and didn’t take it personally when his aunt laughed at his face. 

In all honestly, Peter was more than excited about this particular science fair. He was an old hand in going to these, usually taking home first or second prize on whatever project he’d put together for the year. This one was special, though. This was the Stark Industries Green Tomorrow Young Scientist Expo. First prize was a full scholarship to the university of the winner’s choosing, and a tour of Stark Industries with none other than Tony Stark himself! 

Stark was one of the greatest minds in engineering of their time, and though Peter’s primary area of interest tended towards the biological, he had no small interest in the mechanical as well. The technology behind the Iron Man armor alone left Peter with more questions than he thought he’d ever have enough time to ask. 

Knowing that this contest would put him in the same room with one of his idols was enough to get Peter to pull out all the stops, and he had come up with something that, in his opinion, was worthy of taking the title. He’d tested, and re-tested and while what he’d come up with would need further development, what he had was a definite solid foundation.

He was full of confidence the whole ride to the convention center where the expo would be held, but then they entered the actual exhibit hall…

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he muttered under his breath, dragging his feet as he made his way towards his assigned table with his aunt and uncle in tow. 

“Come on, Pete,” Uncle Ben said stepping ahead of him, the other part of Peter’s display trailing him in the portable wheeled basket they usually used for groceries. “I think your spot’s over here.” 

Peter continued to hesitate as his guardians forged ahead. All around him were other students and their parents setting up their projects and he could tell that some of them were really great. So many of the other kids had sponsors, either through their parents or someone else close to their families. Considering the resources that some of these kids had at their disposal, Peter was beginning to realize that he was completely out-matched. He was going to make a fool of himself in from of one of the greatest minds of his generation. 

“Peter, honey?” Suddenly Aunt May was in front of him, looking intently into his face. “Hey, are you alright? You’re looking a little pale, sweetie.” 

“Um…I just…uh…” He couldn’t stop looking at the projects that surrounded him. That was a self-sustained hover device. And was that kid presenting on high-efficiency solar-powered turbines? “I think I changed my mind…” 

“Petey, what are you talking about? Your project is amazing. I don’t half understand how your figured it out, but even I recognize that you’ve made something that could help a lot of people.” 

“Eventually,” he said still eyeing the other project people were setting up. “But it still has a long way to go. And look at this stuff. I’m one of two students from Midtown who made it this far and the other guy is Harry Osborn!” He gestured towards a booth that was practically covered in holographic projections and fully animated breakdowns of the process of making synthetic photosynthesis possible. “I can’t compete against this stuff! I’ll be laughed out of here as soon as the judges start making their rounds!”

“Nobody’s gonna laugh at you Pete,” this from Uncle Ben who had circled back after dropping Peter’s project off. “And you want to know why? Because every bit of this project was you, built or fixed up by your own hands. These other kids may have sponsors and flashy displays, but half of them had someone else do the brunt of their work for them.” 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” May added, combing her fingers through his hair in a gesture of comfort. 

“That’s right, squirt. More money doesn’t mean more brilliant. If Stark’s people can’t see that, they’re not worth your time.” 

Peter nodded, not sure he was completely on board with what Ben and May were telling him, but he was already there and he’d already put in the work. Might as well see the whole thing through, not matter how out-classed he was feeling. 

Showing up fifteen minutes late worked out since he’d given himself and hour and a half for setup, and that was honestly more than he would need. When building his presentation, he made sure to have as much of it pre-set as possible so that it wouldn’t take forever for him to have everything ready. He had the old projector he’d found and fixed up, along with a projector screen. His slides were in order and in place. The visual aids were easy enough to put together. With May and Ben helping him, it felt like practically no time had passed at all before he was flipping through the index cards he’s prepared for his presentation. 

“Oh! Jeeze...” He looked up at his aunt’s exclamation. “Did you really have to include these for your presentation, Pete?” 

Ben chuckled as he took the container with its spiders out of the bag May had been emptying. “It gets the idea across, babe. Isn’t that right, Petey?”

“Source of my inspiration,” he agreed, easily, taking the container from his uncle to place at the front of his table.

“And an interesting subject of study.” Peter jumped at the unexpected voice, turning to see a middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit prodding at the dumbbell Peter had suspended from a single strand of the synthetic spider silk he’d developed. The chiseled features, auburn hair, and piercing green eyes were very familiar though this was the first time Peter had seen the man in person. 

“Mr. Osborn!” he nearly squeaked, choking on his excitement. “I didn’t realize you’d be here, sir! Um…” he scrambled with his notes, trying to remember what he was supposed to do. Was Mr. Osborn one of the judges? He was the founder of one of the biggest bioengineering firms on the planet, but he’d always heard that Oscorp and Stark Industries were major competitors. Maybe he’d heard wrong? 

“Did you have any questions? I have, uh…” he reached for his pamphlets that explained the process he’d developed and missed, sending papers scattering all over the floor. “Oh! Crap…just, uh…” he scrambled to grab one leaving the others on the ground. “Here!” He handed over the slightly crumpled sheet, swiftly wiping his sweating palms over his pants. _Nailed that one, didn’t you Parker?_ He berated himself internally. 

“No need to be nervous Mr. Parker,” Mr. Osborn said, glancing down at the pamphlet. “I’m not here to judge. Just taking a look around before the official judging begins. Though I can tell already that this is far more impressive that anything I’ve seen yet.”

Peter felt himself practically start glowing from the praise.

“I know of several research programs, including one of my own, attempting to do what you’ve managed, and,” he took a moment to again look over the information in Peter’s pamphlet, “this seems to be a wholly unique approach. I will admit, I am impressed.” Mr. Osborn placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, looking down at him with interest. “You attend the same school as my son, Harry. How is it that he has never mentioned you?” 

“W-well,” Peter stammered, “we run in different circles. Don’t run into each other much.” The truth was that Harry Osborn was a loner who generally seemed angry all of the time. It was a matter of self-preservation that Peter avoided the older boy whenever possible. 

“Hm,” Mr. Osborn said. “Maybe it’s time that changed. If this project is anything to judge by, Harry could use a positive influence like you in his life.” 

With those parting words, Norman Osborn stepped away returning to the booth where it looked like Harry was still frantically working over a display on his table. 

“That was unreal,” Peter said, turning his attention back to May and Ben. “Did that just happen?” 

“It definitely did,” May smiled at him, neatly stacking his pamphlets back on the table. “What did we tell you?” 

Just then a voice filled the room announcing that judging would begin in fifteen minutes. Peter felt his heart start pounding. 

“Oh my god. I don’t know if I’m ready!” 

“You’re gonna do fine,” Ben said, pulling him into a quick hug. “You just go over your notes one more time. And Pete,” Peter looked up at his uncle expectantly, “Let me and May handle the pamphlets.” 

* * *

 It took almost an hour for the judges to make it to Peter’s booth, and Peter was only mildly disappointed when he realized that Mr. Stark was not among them. It had been a long shot that the man would be there. His reputation did precede him.

By the time the judges were approaching his booth, he’d had to replace the line of web that was holding the weight, but that worked out for him as it allowed him to showcase the distribution gun he’d developed. It was small and could be adjusted to alter the configuration of the synthetic silk that was distributed. If they could be build at a smaller scale and mass-produced, he could image them being used for textile production.

The beauty of the synthetic silk he’d developed was that there were a number of possible applications. When woven, it was stronger than Kevlar and could be used to create light-weight protective armor. In its simplest form fine strands of web could be used as internal sutures that would absorb naturally into the body over time. With a few minor adjustments to the formula, he could also concoct a plastic substitute that was durable, but easily bio-degradable. That was actually the primary challenge he faced and made sure to include this bit in his presentation to the judges. 

“The formula in its current state is the tenth iteration. It’s highly reactive to the CO2 in the atmosphere causing the silk to deteriorate in a matter of hours which, obviously is not ideal. I’ve been working on isolating the specific chemical chain that is reacting to the CO2 so that I can try to adjust for it. In the ideal scenario, I want something that is stable enough to be practical and develope a separate solvent that would speed the degradation process if needed. I’ve even put together a solvent to help with clean-up, but the idea as a whole is still under development, obviously,” he finished a little bashfully. 

He knew that it was fine that the finished product was not perfect. He’d provided enough proof of concept to show that his work was moving in the right direction. It was the foundational idea that mattered. With the right team of scientists, it wouldn’t take long to perfect the formula. If he’d already managed this much on his own, he could only imagine what would happen if his idea were picked up by someone like Tony Stark.

“This is very impressive work,” the judge, a sturdy woman who introduced herself as Dr. Walsh, told him. “Well done, Mr. Parker. And your presentation was excellent as well. You are a well spoken young man, and I appreciate the vintage feel of your visual aids.”

“He fixed up all this stuff with his own hands,” Ben interjected. “Found it all in the local dump and has been tinkering away for weeks.”

“Uncle Ben!” Peter groaned, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Dr. Walsh didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave him one last appraising look before making a note on her SI-pad and moving on to the next booth.

“Don’t ‘Uncle Ben’ me,” Ben said, stepping over and mussing Peters hair. “These people need to know just how brilliant you are. Don’t sell yourself short, Pete.”

Peter stumbled forward at the firm pat to his back, and as embarrassing as it was, a warm feeling spread through his chest at the obvious pride his aunt and uncle always showed him. I was nice to know they always had his back.

It took another half hour for the judges to finish circulating, then they stepped off the floor to deliberate. Only ten minutes passed before the voice boomed again over the loud speaker.

“Scholars and families, the judges have reached a decision. After careful consideration, the top five finalists have been selected. As a reminder, all finalists will receive a $30,000 scholarship to the university of their choice, but only one will receive the grand prize of a full scholarship to the university of their choice and a tour of the R&D department of Stark Industries with none other than Tony Stark himself.”

The announcer paused for impact, and the room obliged her by filling with the excited murmurs of anxious students. 

“With no further ado, here are the finalist of the Stark Industries Green Tomorrow Expo.” Peter held his breath as the announcer began calling out names and accompanying projects. “Ana Wage, Plant-Based Plastic Alternative. Keri Kopilioff, Pollination by Drone.” 

Two names. There was still hope. Peter knew his odds of being a finalist decreased with every name announced, but there were still three finalists left. 

“Daniel Wheeler, Low-Impact Salt-Water Filter. Maria Sandoval, A Model for High Efficiency Solar Homes.” 

Applauds continued to smatter about the auditorium as Peter’s hope plummeted. The last finalist had to be Harry Osborn. There was nothing in the exposition hall that could possibly have topped his synthetic photosynthesis. Peter almost missed the final name that was called.

“Peter Parker, Multi-Functional Synthetic Spider Silk.”

“No way,” he breathed as Ben and May all but pounced on him. He could see the disappointed faces that surrounded him, and part of him felt bad for the students who hadn’t made finals, but he was so over the moon that he quickly let the feeling pass. “No matter what, that’s thirty grand for college!” He enthused. May and Ben beamed at him. 

He knew that his aunt and uncle did their best, but they had never expected to have a kid, and while they had been taking care of him most of his life, the “college fund” they’d started for him had barely hit two thousand dollars. It was hard enough making ends meet. There was rarely enough left over for them to put aside to begin with. Peter knew that his only hope of going to college would be to get a scholarship, and finally, far sooner than expected, that hope had become reality. 

“Thank you to all scholars who participated. We will now take an hour intermission for all other participants to vacate the exhibit hall and for our finalists to reset their presentations. Afterwards, the grad prize winner will be determined by a special guest judge.”

More excited murmurs filled the space as various family members gave the other contestants consoling hugs and pats on back. Not all families were like this. There were more than a few stormy parental faces in the group, and this made Peter feel even more fortunate to have May and Ben there to support him. He was turning to his silk distributor to reset the line of silk holding the dumbbell in his display when something caught his attention; there was a stillness in the chaos of movement throughout the hall.

Peter looked up and saw that Norman Osborn was watching him from across the room, attention focused fully on Peter while Harry and a group of others worked on breaking down his booth. Norman met Peter’s eye for a long moment. Smiled, then nodded as though offering his approval to something. Peter was not sure how to feel about the moment. Norman soon turned away leaving Peter feeling oddly unsettled. 

“What are you doing, space cadet?” May asked dropping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got to get this thing put back together.” 

Peter realized that he was still holding the dumbbell, hand on the silk distributor. “Sorry Aunt May,” he smiled at her and focused back on what he was doing. The strange moment completely vanished from his mind in the ensuing excitement.

Once the room cleared, Peter joined the other finalist in front of the main stage. Dr. Walsh appeared from a door just behind the stage and stepped towards them.

“Looks like we’re all here,” she said, surveying the group. “Once again, I want to congratulate all of you on your achievement. Every one of your projects was extraordinary. But only one can win the grand prize of the competition. And to make that choice, please allow me to introduce you to your special guest judge. 

Peter was expecting one of the heads of R&D from Stark Industries, or perhaps one of the better known mainstream scientists like Will Lye or Bill DeLasse Dyson. The very last person he expected to see walk through that door was Tony Stark himself.

“Holy-!” Peter practically fell over. He was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one having this reaction. Every one of the other students looked somewhere between heart attack and aneurism. 

“Hey kids!” Mr. Stark greeted cheerfully. “I heard your projects are pretty good, so I figured I’d actually swing by after all. Let’s hope you’re not wasting my time.” 

“ _Tony_ ,” a voice hissed from beside the billionaire in reprimand. Peter had been so distracted by the idea of frickin’ Iron Man judging his project that he hadn’t even noticed Pepper freaking Potts walk in right behind him. Peter thought he might start hyperventilating. 

“Families,” Dr. Walsh called and directed the groups attention to a man in a suit, waiting by the other end of the stage. “While the students complete the final jury, Mr. Philips will walk you through the scholarship documentation and the other support services that will be available to your scholars.”

There were some clearly disappointed faces amongst the families, but the group of adults allowed themselves to be ushered of the exhibition floor, giving encouraging hugs and back pats before they left.

“You’ve got this Petey,” Ben’s reassuring hand landed on his shoulder before he left. “Remember, he’s just a guy.” 

Right, Peter thought, just a guy. Just a ridiculously rich, brilliant, superhero guy. He took it back, there would be no hyperventilating, he was going to puke. He got his last hugs in from Ben and May, then it was just him, the other four finalists, and two of the most powerful people on the planet. No big. 

Mr. Stark led the group around the exposition hall so they would get to see each other’s presentations. Peter was relieved that he didn’t have to go first, because it gave him a chance to calm down. In fact, he was so interested in the other students’ presentations, he didn’t have time to feel nervous until they were stepping over to his display. 

“Oh, one sec,” Peter jogged over to his display and grabbed the hanging dumbbell. He technically didn’t need to change out the silk for another hour, but after wandering around the exhibit hall with Mr. Stark and the other finalists, he was feeling fairly confident and figured it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little. 

He grabbed the bottle of solvent that would finish degrading the silk, wiped the weight and the surface it was hanging from down with vinegar to ensure any solvent residue was removed, then grabbed his silk distributor, fired a thin line to connect to the suspension platform before wrapping the silk around the weight and carefully allowing the thin line of spider silk to hold the thirty-pound weight. 

“Not bad kid,” Mr. Stark said coming over to examine the silk distributor more closely. “You came up with this, too?” Peter nodded. 

“I figured if this were repurposed for textiles or something, there would need to be a delivery method of some kind,” he shrugged a little bashfully. “It was just an idea.”

Mr. Stark made an interested grunt, munching on peanuts while he wandered around Peter’s booth. “Retro-tech,” he observed, examining Peter’s slide projector and other small displays set to scroll through information automatically. “You do all of this?” 

“I just fixed it up,” he said doing his best to downplay the fact that he’d essentially gone dumpster diving for his presentation tools. 

Stark made another grunting sound whose meaning was not clear, but he tucked the nuts away and brushed off his hands. “Alright, short-stack. Let’s hear the spiel.” 

Peter was more than happy to oblige. By now, the presentation materials were second nature, and knowing that he was getting a scholarship no matter what took a lot of pressure off of his shoulders. Even with Aunt May and Uncle Ben sequestered off with the rest of the parental types, he still felt comfortable explaining his idea and the challenges he’d run into.

“How have you compensated so far for the CO2 degradation?” Mr. Stark asked after he’d explained the deterioration problem again. 

“I’ve been trying different stabilizers,” he said. “Just gets a little tricky to add to the formula without compromising the integrity of the silk fibers it can produce.” 

“What’s the max tensile strength you’ve managed?” 

“This one’s landed pretty close to standard dragline spider silk at about one point two giga pascals. But one of my earlier trials got up to one point seven! That was pretty nuts, but it started dissolving within half an hour so...not really useful. I plan to keep working on it though.”

“You do that,” Mr. Stark told him. “And while you’re at it, I think I know a couple of people in R&D who might be able to offer you some ideas. You free next weekend?”

Peter froze, not sure he was reading the situation correctly. “Wait. Are you—? Does that mean— ?” 

Dr. Walsh took over from there. “Congratulations, Mr. Parker. You are our grand prize winner.” There was a smattering of applauds from the other finalists and genuine smiles all around. “Thank all of you for your amazing work. Your projects have truly been inspirational. If you’ll follow me, we will go rejoin your families and finalize your scholarship information.” 

Peter, shell-shocked, began following after the others but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Tony Stark and could do nothing but smile, amazed that this could be happening. 

“This is for you.” He handed Peter a simple card that said Stark Industries on one side and had a phone number on the other. “Give that to Mom and Dad and have them call to set up a time for your visit. Good work kid.” 

And with that, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts made their exit, and Peter’s life was changed. He turned and rushed to catch up with the other finalists. He couldn’t wait to tell Ben and May!

 

* * *

 

_“Ben, May! You guys won’t believe this! Mr. Osborn said he’d take me and Harry on his private yacht next weekend to go whale watching for our Marine Bio project!”_

_“Woah there, Pete. What happened to heading over to the marina? Didn’t you say that’s what the rest of your class is doing?”_

_“Yeah, but—”_

_“No ‘buts’, Peter. I know you’re excited to have a new friend, and I know that it’s nice having the attention of two very successful men on you right now, but I still want you to be careful. Especially around Norman Osborn.”_

_“What are you talking about? Mr. Osborn’s been awesome!”_

_“I’m sure he has been. But Peter, remember this. The people who run huge companies like SI and Oscorp, they have a lot of money and a lot of power at their disposal. You’ll learn a lot about a man by looking at what he choses to do with that power; shows whether he understands the responsibility that comes with it. Stark, he had to learn the hard way and there are days I’m still not sure about that guy. But Norman Osborn has the look of a man who does what he wants and gets what he wants, damn the consequences, and I don’t want you becoming collateral damage in whatever he’s getting up to.”_

_“So you’re saying I can’t go?”_

_“I’m saying this guy didn’t know you from Adam two weeks ago and now he’s acting like you’re his kid, or something. It’s not sitting right with me. I’m fine with you tutoring Harry, but I don’t want you off on some boat where we can’t get to you if you need us.”_

_“Oh my gosh, you’re being so paranoid!”_

_“Peter, Ben’s right.”_

_“Not you too, May!”_

_“Listen, sweetie. We’re excited for you, but you can’t expect us to let you wander off with someone we barely know.”_

_“This sucks! You both SUCK!”_

* * *

 Peter startled awake, the memory of that last argument echoing in his mind. Those were the last words he’d spoken to his aunt and uncle. He’d stormed off without speaking to them when he went to school the next morning and that afternoon he’d been informed that they had been in an accident. He’d been so relieved when Mr. Osborn had come for him at the hospital but now…

_“Peter? Are you with me, son? He’s waking but not lucid. Keep an eye on him and let me know as soon as there are any changes.”_

He was confused. His mind was not…he couldn’t figure out…what was happening. The last time he woke up, he was freezing. Not anymore. He was hot. So hot. Burning. He shifted in an attempt to get relief from the heat, but that was a bad move. Pain flared everywhere, so intense he couldn’t pin down the source. He might have made a sound, sobbed or screamed, but he couldn’t be sure. The pain blocked out all else devouring sound and thought and feeling, leaving nothing but a steady ringing in his ears, like a heart a monitor that had flat-lined.

Time passed, and Peter was lost in a haze of too much sensation, his body twitching, pain flaring, mind unable to comprehend. Then…

“…s been non-responsive for thirty-six hours. Muscle density has increased by sixty percent and continues to develop. Inconsistencies in bone mineral counts indicate possible changes in bone density. This will need to be tested further once physical transitions have stabilized. Subject is…”

The words stopped making sense as they seemed to grow in volume and intensity. His head was pounding with the sound of them. He tried to raise his hands to cover his ears, do anything to block out the noise, but he couldn’t. His arms were held in place on the table, unmoved by his efforts. He opened his eyes to see what was holding him down only for the light in the room to sheer through his brain and explode in fireworks at the back of his skull.

This time he did hear himself scream and this only added to the sudden onslaught of sensory input. He was being bombarded from all sides now. Sounds of machinery and voices (talking, shouting, _screaming_ ) build into a wall of sound that beat into his ear drums. The light was more than blinding. It was a supernova, unmaking him at the molecular level. Smells were registering, synthetic and chemical, natural and human. He could smell the sweat pouring from himself and a thousand other things his mind didn’t have the capacity to define. He felt himself gagging, body attempting to void itself, hoping to find relief somehow, but he knew that vomiting would only make everything worse. Just the thought of the smell, the _taste_ had him gagging again and it took more strength than he thought he had to fight back the nausea. 

This lead to the unpleasant realization that he could feel the internal workings of his body in ways he never could before and never wanted to. He could feel each muscle contraction of his stomach and bowels, feel his heart pounding a frantic staccato, feel the air as it raced in and out of his heaving lungs, feel the very blood rushing though his veins. It was too much. His mind couldn’t handle it all. He was going to break. He was going to— 

The world came to sharp focus with a suddenness that was startling. Between one heartbeat and the next, he became entirely aware of his surroundings, his brain processing input that moments before had been overwhelming. He was no longer strapped to the bed. Based on the lingering pressure he could still feel on this wrists, he’d managed to rip himself free of the restrains. Now, he was cowering in a corner, hands pressed to the side of his head, nails digging into his scalp in an attempt to distract himself from the sensory overload. 

A moment ago, it had all been too much, but now…

“I think he’s acclimated,” a voice said. The speaker was not in the room with him, but observing from some safe distance. “Send a team in to sedate him and get him back on the table.”

He heard the steps approaching, the quiet hiss of released pressure as the door slip open, and he was out. The moment the door opened, there was no thought, only movement, a survival instinct as old as time but newly enhanced guiding him to escape. He didn’t know where he was but he would find an exit. They couldn’t keep him.

They were too weak. 

As he began moving down the hall, an alarm began sounding, loud and startling. A spike of adrenaline sent him to the ceiling. The ceiling. He as sticking upside down to the _ceiling._ He took this in stride, opening senses to find a way out. Instead, he found something familiar. A scent, a presence, he wasn’t sure, but there was something calling to him from the next room over that all but screamed _Ben!_

Peter came back to himself for a moment, freed from the strange near trance of instinct that had taken over. He had to get to Ben! Couldn’t leave without his uncle.

It was a simple matter to kick through the door even as doctors, technicians, and security guards tried to stop him. Target in sight, he allowed himself to fall back into that state of instinct that had done well by him so far. Ben was strapped to a table similar to the one he’d been attached to. There were doctors scuttling about him like ants on a kill.

He shoved the nearest ones away, ignoring the sound of flesh giving way, bones cracking. He ripped the restraints from the bed and lifted a non-responsive Ben over a shoulder.

Again without thinking, he found himself leaping up and away, managing to stick himself to a corner wall as he looked down where a man with a shock baton was glaring up at him.

“Get down here, kid!” the man shouted. “Don’t make this hard on yourself.”

Peter didn’t listen. He realized with a detached sort of relief that his instincts had got him to a large air vent. From the scents and sounds, he could tell that this was his way out. The vent was armed and reinforced. Without this new strength and strange ability to stick to things, the exit would have been useless. But as things stood, he was able to rip the grate off of the vent, adjust Ben so that he was holding the man with his legs, and scrambled up the vent, hand over hand.

He heard voices shouting below him as the alarms continued howling. They would scramble people to the roof, but it would be too late. Peter would make it there first. All he had to worry about now was where he could go that would be safe…

 

* * *

_-5 Days Prior-_

 

“Peter, you realize that this is the stuff of the nerdiest self-insert fanfiction ever, right? Like…I’m not even sure this is real. I might be dreaming. Or maybe I was in an accident or something and this is some drug induced hallucination.”

“Ned,” Peter, groaned. “Why would you be hallucinating that I was meeting Tony Stark and not you?”

“Because this is exactly the kind of crazy thing that would happen to you! The best I’d manage is like some serious Pettigrew level of secret-keeper status or something. Nothing this amazing would ever happen to me!”

It was the morning that Peter was scheduled to go to Stark Industries and get his tour of R&D. He, in no way expected Mr. Stark to show up for the tour. This was the sort of thing he would “accidentally” forget about. It was enough that he _and_ Pepper Potts had showed up at the Expo and selected the winner in person. There was no way Tony Stark would take time out of his schedule to give some random high school kid a tour of his labs.

“Well, it’s not going to happen to me if I don’t get out of here. I’ll call you when I get back, ok?” 

“You’d better!” Ned told him. “This is without a doubt the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of and I’ll never forgive you if you don’t let me experience it vicariously through you!” 

“Peter! You ready?!” May called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, May!” he called back.

“OK, man, I gotta go.”

”Later!” Ned said as Peter disconnected.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror. Inspected his carefully selected science pun t-shirt to be sure it would be SI appropriate. “ _If at first you don’t succeed, try two more times so that your FAILURE is statistically significant_.” Yup. Still solid. He grabbed his messenger bag where he’d placed the notebook full of information on his project along with his dispensers and a few vials of the silk solution and then was out the door, meeting Ben and May in the living room.

“Hey!” He said, face nearly breaking from the smile he was sporting.

“There’s my genius!” Ben crowed, grabbing Peter’s shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze and excited shake. “You ready? Of course you’re ready. Let’s do this!” and with that, the small family unit filed out the door. 

As it turned out, the grand prize managed to be true. When Peter and family arrived at the Stark Industries Tower, they presented themselves to the receptionist and when the doors opened on the Research & Development floor, Tony Stark was there to greet them.

“There he is!” Tony said stepping forward. “I’ve been telling my guys all about you kid. How’re you doing? How’s it going? HE-llo!” This after having a glance at his aunt. Peter rolled his eyes toward Uncle Ben. They shared a knowing look. This was a common response May got when she entered a room, but fortunately that was a far as it went. If Mr. Stark had stepped out of line, Ben was not the type to be intimidated by money. He would have set the billionaire straight.

For his part, Tony focused his attention to the adults in the room with a polite smile firmly in place.

“Hi, nice to meet you both,” he said extending a hand to both Ben and May. “Amazing work from Peter. You must be very proud.”

“We really are,” May chimed in, stepping forward oblivious to the previous interlude and shaking the man’s hand, maybe a little too eagerly. “We really appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to do this. It means so much to Peter. He’s been obsessed with you for as long as—”

“May!” Peter interrupted before his aunt could humiliate him any further. “I’m sure Mr. Stark, uh, has other things to do. So maybe we should…” Peter gestured awkwardly, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“Too right, young Mr. Parker,” Mr. Stark chimed in. “Except for the things to do part. Pepper made sure I had the entire afternoon blocked off for this and a bunch of my guys are here on their days off so we’re good to go as long as we need. Isn’t that right, Gray?”

“Slow down, Tony. You’re scaring the kid.” Another man stepped forward to offer his hand to each of the Parkers. “I’m Dr. Gray Armond,” he introduced himself. “SI’s Head Designer. Tony’s told me a lot about your synthetic spider silk. I’d love to see it for myself.”

Peter was temporarily frozen in place. He’d been shocked enough to have Tony actually show up for the tour, but to have Gray Armond present as well. He and his team were the ones responsible for the design and development of anything deemed appropriate for the public sphere. This was the man responsible for getting Stark Tech into the hands of the people. Peter was speechless.

A gentle nudge from Ben got him moving.

“Yeah!” he said. “Of course.”

He went through all the motions again explaining the formula, the possible uses, the challenges. He didn’t bother bringing the weight with him this time, instead opting to demonstrate the tensile strength using his own body weight. Aiming a dispenser at a support beam overhead, Peter stood on a convenient stool, wrapped the silk a few times around his hips and thighs then sat comfortably swinging on the line. 

“Incredible,” Dr. Armond said, looking up at Peter then back down at his notes. “And how old are you?”

“Uh,” Peter felt his cheeks flushing as this man he admired looked at his work with awe in his eyes. “I’ll be sixteen this August.”

“You figured this out, on your own, at fifteen.”

“Jaw off the ground, Gracie,” Mr. Stark interjected almost smugly, grabbing Peter’s notebook and flipping through it again. “I found him first.”

“It wasn’t entirely on my own,” Peter admitted. This caught Mr. Stark’s attention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Peter extracted himself from the silk harness, allowing May to help him balance on the stool as he got back down. “My dad—my biological father,” he clarified when all eyes went immediately to Ben. “He was into spiders, too. Both my parents died a long time ago, but they worked for Oscorp. I don’t know the details, but I know my dad was doing something that had to do with spiders. I found some of his notes, Peter grabbed his notebook and flipped to the appropriate page where he had meticulously copied his father’s ideas. 

“This is just…” Mr. Stark scanned the pages again before looking at Peter again, a glint in his eyes that Peter couldn’t quite identify. “You realize that this is literally just a bunch of ideas about the biological capabilities of arachnids, and the chemical compositions of a couple species of spider silk. This is what you consider help?”

Peter flushed again. “Well…that’s what I was reading when I had the idea to synthesize spider silk.”

Mr. Stark actually laughed out loud at this. “Keep that up, kid and I might be forced to invite you back. Come on, I’m pretty sure there was actually supposed to be a tour involved in this show & tell. Let’s go meet the rest of the geek squad.”

Peter, May, and Ben were allowed into some of the off limits labs of the SI facility. It was obvious that all of the more sensitive projects were put away for the visit, but Peter was so amazed by the equipment and prototypes that were present that he didn’t care.

He was vaguely aware of Mr. Stark talking to May and Ben off to the side, but he was far more interested in the high-capacity micro-battery cells and their matching high-speed chargers, putting his head together with some of the weekend skeleton crew to come up with ways to deal with the excess heat the cells generated.

“Hey kids, I hate to break up the party,” Mr. Stark stepped in after some time. Peter had no idea how much time had passed actually. “But I am going to have to bring this tour to an end. I’m due in Shanghai tomorrow and Pepper might actually kill me if I miss my flight window.”

Peter was glad he wasn’t the only one in the room to groan in disappointment. He hadn’t been imagining it. He hadn’t been the only one having fun.

“I know, I know, I’m the worst,” Tony sighed dramatically. “But I’ve been chatting with May and Ben over here and asked if you’d be free to come back next weekend. I’ve got a friend who’ll be in town I think you’d get a kick out of meeting, and I think he’d get a kick out of meeting you. Ever heard of Dr. Bruce Banner?”

Peter nearly choked. “You… I……WHAT?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. See you next week, kid!”

Mr. Stark winked at him and made his exit. It had officially become the best day of Peter’s life.

 

* * *

_-Present-_

 

It was raining.

Peter came back to himself on a rooftop a few buildings over from the Stark Industries Tower. But everyone knew that it housed more than just Stark Industries. In the public eye, it had another name.

_Avengers Tower_

Uncle Ben was clutched protectively in his arms but Peter was too cold to register anything beyond this. His mind was going numb, body trembling, soaked by frigid early spring rain. He was barely wearing anything. Just the paper-thin scrub bottoms he’d been in when he’d escaped from Osborn’s lab. 

Osborn. The man was insane. He wouldn’t stop until he had Peter again, his ultimate creation; his ‘perfect son’. That much, Peter already understood. The man was probably out there right now, searching for him as Peter sat there stupidly staring off into space. And if Osborn caught Peter this time… A panicked sob escaped his throat as he began moving towards Avengers Tower again, hopping from roof top to roof top, barely thinking about what he was doing or how he was doing it.

They had readings now. They knew his strength, knew what he could do. Even if it was just baseline data, the next place they kept him would be better prepared for him. It would not be nearly so easy to escape. The only reason he’d made it this far on instinct and panic was because Osborn had not anticipated the extent to which the formula would change him. How could he? Who could predict a human with the ability to stick to _walls_? But next time…next time, Osborn would be ready. Next time…

Peter couldn’t think about ‘next time.’

When he ran out of roof tops, he climbed down a fire escape and made his way to the entrance to the building. Mr. Stark lived in the Tower with the other Avengers, didn’t he? Someone would be there. Someone had to be there. The Avengers helped people who needed help, right? And Peter needed help. Uncle Ben needed help. They wouldn’t care that it was late enough for even New York to be quiet. The rain was keeping most people off the street anyway. If he went to the Tower, he could find help there. He could be safe. He could…

The doors were locked.

It was so stupid. Of course the doors would be locked. It was well outside of business hours. It’s not like the public doors would be unlocked for any idiot to come waltzing in whenever. Of course the doors would be locked, it was so obvious, but the simple reality almost broke him. 

Instead, he broke the doors.

He hadn’t even been trying. He beat his fist in frustration against the cold, unfeeling glass that was keeping him from his only hope of safety, but he wasn’t thinking about the strange new power contained in his trembling limbs. When the glass shattered, exploding around him, he screamed and jumped back at the sudden noise and shower of tiny, cubic shards. He did his best to shield Ben’s body with his own but had no idea how successful he’d been. All he could think was that the doors were open now.

Alarms were sounding, lights were flashing, and Peter’s brain was on the brink of shut down from stress and overstimulation. He pressed forward. He didn’t notice the bloody trail he left through the glass as he stumbled, barefoot, into the reception area, dripping blood and water, trembling as though with palsy.

“Heeeelp!” he called, not knowing what else to do. The sound that came from him barely could be called human and only served to rack his panic higher. “Mr. Stark! Someone! Please!” He didn’t register the tears streaming from his eyes. He didn’t hear the sound of repulsors approaching from outside or the elevator doors opening as several pairs of booted feet filed out.

What he did register was the moment that Iron Man was in front of him and relief so powerful it was painful washed through him.

“Please,” he was practically choking on the word. “My uncle…” It’s all he managed before his body finally ceased functioning. He didn’t remember hitting the floor. Couldn’t hear the panicked voices surrounding him, barely registered the panicked face of Tony Stark as it hovered above him. Could only manage one final warning before the darkness took him.

“Osborn...”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a schedule for posting(*cough*becauseIcanneverkeepit*cough*), but I post progress reports on my [tumblr](https://wipdfic.tumblr.com) if any one is interested. I welcome thoughts and suggestions, so come visit!


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